


Lost and Found

by AlephandMutt (orphan_account)



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Asexual friendly, Carlos is a Good Boyfriend, Cecil Is Not Described, Domestic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Humor, M/M, pet related fluff, possibly obnoxiously domestic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-24
Updated: 2015-03-10
Packaged: 2018-02-26 19:50:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2664275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/AlephandMutt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carlos suspects Cecil wants to keep Khoshekh at home, or maybe he wants a dog? He's not sure.  And since this is Night Vale, he's not even 100% sure what exactly passes for canine or even a pet here, but this probably isn't it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Am Not a Zoologist, Crypto or Otherwise

         “We always had a dog,” Carlos said, “but never a puppy growing up.  You know, just a family dog.”

         He and Cecil were picnicking in the Scrublands just beyond the Whispering Forest.  Carlos wanted to get close enough to collect some samples of leaf litter and humus and Cecil, of course, agreed to help. Just now they’d finished their sandwiches and were making the collection, which consisted of Carlos donning earplugs and a rope around his waist and Cecil towing him back from the trees every 5 minutes, willing or not. Science could be both practical and romantic, Cecil thought.

         “You never got to raise a puppy?” He asked helping take the first round of samples. He looked doubtfully at the black soil-like one labeled ‘humus’. Science is also really weird, he thought,  but he dropped it in with the others without comment.

         “No. We had an old black lab mix when I was a little kid and after he died somehow we ended up with another adult dog.” Carlos shrugged and popped the ear plugs back in for another trip.

         When Cecil hauled Carlos back out, he picked up right where he’d left off. “Old dogs are sweet. What about cats?”

         Carlos didn’t miss a beat. (Really, the Whispering Forest never said anything to him he hadn’t already heard before. Cecil was far more prolific and original in that department.) “No cats. I guess with large dogs, mom and dad thought that was enough.” He shucked off his collection satchel and punched buttons on his label maker.

         “I never had cats growing up either.  Sand hounds, short-nose cactus robbers, the odd gila monster…  I vaguely remember a secret terrier when I was very little, but we didn’t keep it.  I think it got snappy or something?  What about other animals?” Cecil pressed.

         Preoccupied labeling the latest batch of forest detritus, Carlos almost mentioned that he’d had any number of mice, rats and rabbits.  But he caught himself.  Lab animals were not pets and he knew Cecil wouldn’t like hearing about their lives and fates regardless of how useful or humanely they’d been conducted and concluded. “My cousin had a myna bird. It liked to quote lines from movies she watched.”

         Cecil grinned. “Like what?”

         Reaching crooked zombie hands at Cecil, Carlos intoned (badly) “‘They’re coming to get you Barbara…’ Or, ‘say hello to my leetle friend’.  It would try to say Beetlejuice three times, but it just sounded like sneezing. And when it wanted your attention it would mimic the smoke alarm.”

  ............................. 

 

         Heading back to the car, they picked a new path skirting the other edge of the forest.  “Are you wanting a dog, Cecil?” 

         “Oh,no, no.” Cecil laughed. “But sometimes I do miss having Khoshekh at home.”

         Carlos wondered if this was a good time to tell Cecil he’d been looking into allergy shots when they both stopped and looked down.

         Scattered around among the sand, rocks and small scrub were tattered bits of blackish fur, wet patches of dark ground and little twiggy bits of unidentifiable limb or tendon.  It looked like some sort of animal had been shredded.

         “Ug.” Cecil shook his head. “Coyote or something got it.”

         “Or a bird.” Carlos pointed to a couple vultures on the ground pecking at something several yards away.

         He’d hardly said the words when there was a high keening yelp.

         Cecil threw down his satchel and grabbed a rock to pitch at the scavengers. “Get!  Go on! Get away!” He ran over as the pair took wing and cast around on the ground.

         By the time Carlos got to him, Cecil had something gathered up in both hands holding it to his chest protectively. “Stupid birds.” He huffed trying to catch his breath.

         “What is it?” Carlos asked. In reply, Cecil held his hands open a little to let him see.  “Um. Still. What is it?” The thing in Cecil’s palms looked like a dark furry potato. It was barely the size of a mouse.

         “I think it’s a fox kit.” Cecil breathed.

 

         On the ride back to town, Cecil held the tiny thing to his chest with one hand while dialing the animal shelter on his phone with the other. He put it on speaker so he could look at the screen.

         “Thank you for calling the Night Vale SPCA. Our shelter office is closed for the day. If you are experiencing an animal related emergency, please call…”

         Cecil groaned and stabbed at different numbers until he reached a police department phone tree. 

         “Thank you for calling the Animal Control division of the Night Vale Police Department. Please listen to all our options as the menu has changed. Due to high call volume at this time, a random number of calls will be dropped or ignored.

         If you are being threatened by an aggressive animal, please press 1.

         If you are being ridiculed by an animal, please press 2.

         If you are being blackmailed by an animal, please press 3.

         If you are currently being mauled by an aggressive animal, please hang up and dial 911

         If you are currently witnessing a dog fight, please press 4.

         If you are currently participating a dog fight, please press 5.

         If you have been bitten by a plastic bag, please press 6.

         If you have sighted plastic bags in your area, please stay on the line while we triangulate the call. Do not resist arriving officers.

         If you have found a lost animal, be aware that the city recognizes the ‘finders keepers’ ordinance and congratulates you on your new pet.”

         By this time, Carlos was pulling into the driveway.  He leaned over and lifted Cecil’s hand to peer at the small creature.  It was almost completely round, almost featureless.  He could see twin slits, closed, on one end of it, about where eyes would be on a newborn pup.  There were some stubby things that might have been legs or even flippers. Carlos’s rational mind arranged them into legs and paws and distinguished the other closed slits on it into closed ears on an immature mammal.  It was a fox kit.

         And it was also stone still and no warmer than Cecil himself. His boyfriend read the doubtful look and his face fell.

         “Is there an emergency vet clinic?”

         Cecil bit his lip and shook his head. “Draw back of a small town.”

         They went inside out of the cooling evening air and Cecil continued to hold and rub the thing while Carlos tried calling Teddy Williams, Rico, Josie...  No luck.

         “I can’t believe we can’t reach anyone.” Carlos watched Cecil pace back and forth, then freeze at this comment.

         “Open the window.” He said nodding towards it, but not lifting either hand from where he covered the tiny body against the warmth of his chest.

         Carlos grimaced, but slid the window up.  This sort of thing, tempting reeducation,  always set him on edge.

         “Hey! Officer!” Cecil boomed. “Don’t bother ducking — I can see your boots under the fence.  This is a police emergency!”

         A grainy voice — Carlos swore it sounded like the drive thru speaker at Jerry’s — blared back.  “It is not a police emergency, Mr. Palmer.”

         “Yes it is! A LIFE is at stake!”

         “It’s nature, Mr. Palmer. Survival of the fittest. Look it up.”

         Cecil spun away from the window stifling whatever angry response was on his lips and rubbed gently at the small form. “No heart whatsoever. I hope he gets a visit from that pack of plastic bags… or chokes on a kolache…” He muttered.

         Closing the window, Carlos followed Cecil into the living room where the radio host slumped into an armchair. The scientist could see frustrated tears forming in his boyfriend’s eyes as he stole a peek at the unmoving glob of fur.  “It’s so still… I can’t tell if it’s warm because it’s alive or if that’s just from me holding it.” He whispered.

         “Let me have a look.” Carlos flipped on the reading lamp over the chair.  Seeing it uncovered, he understood Cecil’s concern. The thing looked lifeless and it didn’t react as he ran a finger over it. It's dark hair was so silky fine and soft he almost couldn't feel it.  “I don’t see any blood on your hands.” He said gently. “So maybe it’s not injured.” A little more aggressively, he tickled at a stubby bit —one of the bits his logical mind informed him must be a paw — and the thing squirmed and jerked weakly.

         Cecil gasped. “Oh, it’s still alive!  Please, we have to do something!”

         The wide-eyed pure pleading look on Cecil’s face was enough to give Carlos’s heart a vicious squeeze. “Okay.” He said quietly. “Let me think. You understand I’m not a zoologist or a vet, right?”

         Cecil nodded eagerly. “Anything.  Trying anything is better than just watching it die.”

 

         While Cecil continued to hold the creature under the lamp, Carlos dug through the bathroom and found a heating pad. He sterilized a pipette from the lab and made a sugar water solution.

         Leaning over Cecil, he lifted his hands and found a protrusion and slit on the animal that looked the most like a mouth and gently worked the dropper against it.  “Small mammals eat frequently. If it hasn’t had mom for a few hours, it’s probably hypoglycemic.” He explained.

         To Cecil’s delight the creature worked it’s mouth to take the tiny amount of nourishment. It was feeble and slow, but it worried and finally lapped at the end of the pipette drinking a little more. Science was both heroic and magic and Cecil wanted to pop.

         Carlos watched Cecil’s eyes light up and he accepted a grateful kiss as he kept feeding the thing. He couldn’t protest too much with his hands busy. “Cecil, please. Please. It’s a good sign, but this creature is very small. Please understand, I don’t know what I’m doing. I have no idea what we should give it as its proper food. If we can get it through tonight, maybe the animal shelter can help when they open tomorrow.”

         Cecil nodded. “But it’s eating.”

         “I know, but I don’t want you to get your hopes up too much.  It’s really young, and maybe this is helping, but maybe it’ll shock its system.  I don’t really know.”

         Cecil nodded again, crestfallen, and Carlos could see he was swallowing hard to speak. “Even so. It likes it. This is better than leaving it out there. Even if we’re not doing this right, it’s not alone and it’s warm and being fed — it doesn’t know if we’re doing this wrong. If we’re accidentally hurting it.”

         A tear spilled out of Cecil’s eye and Carlos leaned up from where he held the dropper for the animal and kissed it away offering a smile.

         “No, it doesn’t know.” He said softly. “I’m sure it just feels safe.”


	2. Care and Feeding of your Wild Whatchamacallit (Today it's a kitten)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Visit to the Night Vale SPCA. Being a shelter worker doesn't make you an animal ID expert, but at least her heart and limbs are in the right place.

             Carlos woke up on the couch with one of Josie’s knitted throws covering him. Cecil was beside him, still holding the creature on the heating pad and feeding it more of the sugar solution, his face scrunched with concentration, but his hands careful and light.

             “It’s moving more.” Cecil told him in a hushed but excited voice. “It got still after you fell asleep and I was worried, but I think it was just sleeping too.  I think it feels better.”

             “Sorry I passed out.  Did you sleep at all?”

             Cecil shook his head. “It’s okay.”

             “What time is it?”

             Cecil looked at the watch Carlos had given him. “Seven. Only an hour and we can call the animal shelter.”

             “I’ll make coffee.” Climbing to his feet, Carlos kissed the top of his head, pleased and relieved for Cecil that the thing was still alive.

 

             “Night Vale SPCA, Come adopt some thing!”  A woman’s voice sang the greeting, sounding far too chipper for this early.

             “Finally!” Cecil gasped and Carlos shushed him; his cell sat on the coffee table in speaker mode.  They’d been hitting redial on it for the last 5 minutes as the clock ticked past 8 am.

             “Hello?” The shelter worker asked. Behind her a rooster could be heard and something else barking, trumpeting, hooting and scratching.

             “Yes! Hello. We need some help.  We found an orphaned animal.”

             “Aw shoot. Really? I bet it’s cute too.”

             “Very cute.” Cecil confirmed. 

             Carlos rolled his eyes. “It could be a sea slug for all she knows.”

             Now it was Cecil’s turn to shush. “Yes, cute. Adorable.  But we have no idea what to do for it. It’s tiny — doesn’t even have its eyes open.”

             “Oh wow. Yeah. If it’s a bottle baby it needs to be in a foster home.”

             Carlos brightened. “You have foster homes?”

             “Well, yes and no.  We do, but they’re all full up.  You bring it down here though and I could teach you to how to provide foster care.”

             “YES. YES. WE WILL BE RIGHT THERE.”

             Carlos flinched. Sometimes he forgot how powerfully Cecil’s voice could project.

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

             Before they left, Carlos found a deep box and made the animal a snug spot with the heating pad and some towels for the car ride and Cecil tucked it in and fussed over covering it.

             Carlos watched and leaned over to peck his cheek. Please don’t let this thing die on him, he thought. …And please let there be sane people at the animal shelter… 

             To his surprise though, they were greeted at the door by a normal looking woman in tidy clothes: a shelter t-shirt and jeans with no rips or bloodstains to be seen.  She appeared to still have all her original limbs too, and the front office she waved them into was neat and clean.  Yes, there was a large antlered cat sleeping on the counter, a tank of tarantulas flipping through various Dr. Seuss I-Can-Read books and a trio of multi-colored wiggling mutt dogs behind a baby gate going into a kennel room - - but it was reassuringly orderly and friendly, not wild kingdom.

             “You’ve made it a warm box? Great. Great. We’ll go back to the infirmary through here…” 

             As she turned to lead them down the hall, Carlos froze and his eyes went wide.

             “Um. Miss?”

             On her back there was a dark mass of what looked like black and gray hair lumped up covering from her shoulders to tailbone.  When Carlos backed away, portions of the mass squirmed and blinked at him whimpering.

             The woman looked back at him puzzled.

             “Your, ah…” Carlos pointed.

             “Carlos, you’ve seen spider wolves before.” Cecil hissed. “Don’t be rude.”

             “Oh them! Yeah, the moms carry the hatchlings on their backs. I got stuck with the last batch — I told you all our foster homes were full. Don’t worry, they’ll stay out of the way. Snausage?” She held out a box.

             “Oh.  No thank you.”

             She shrugged and popped one in her mouth. “Right back here then…”

 

             The infirmary looked just like an exam room at a vet’s office, Carlos saw to his relief. It had a few more cabinets and a refrigerator with different biohazard and pharmaceutical warning stickers on it, and there was a bank of different size kennels along one wall, all covered in pastel baby blankets to keep them quiet and dim.  From behind these, he could hear intermittent chirping, grunting, snorting and meowing.  He shot Cecil a look, catching his boyfriend before he could peek into the meowing one.

             The shelter worker let Cecil take the creature out, while she quizzed Carlos on what they’d done for it so far.  “Aw, this thing is hours old… You guys totally saved it. We’re trained to use Karo syrup because it dissolves fast, but what you did was perfect. You sure you’ve never done this before?”

             Cecil beamed at Carlos and the scientist blushed. “So it’s a fox?” He deflected.

             “Um…  Judging by the size and hair color, yeah? Yeah. I’ve never seen one this young.  But you’ve seen baby puppies - sometimes they just look like blobs.” She shrugged.

             Carlos didn't argue.

             She proceeded to show them how to mix and warm powdered milk replacer, how to tilt the animals head to prevent it from aspirating on the formula and how to get it to switch from the pipette to latching onto a nipple and nurse from a bottle. When it caught on immediately and guzzled down a half ounce, Cecil couldn’t have looked happier than if he’d just been handed a Marconi Award.

             Next she got a warm washcloth and began hunting around on the creature.

             “What’s that?” Carlos asked.

             “They won’t eliminate on their own this young.  You need to mimic what mom does with her tongue.  Ah, here we go.” She located an orifice under a tiny tapered appendage Carlos could have sworn wasn’t there earlier. “You lift the tail…” The appendage coiled around her index finger, “Er, both tails.” She amended as a second slithered over the back of her hand. “And you just swab until they poop.  See? Feed one end then wipe the other.”

             “I call feeding.” Carlos smirked.

             Cecil smacked him with a laugh. “Let me try.”

             It was already done though, so he settled for letting it curl up in his hands — apparently full now and ready for a nap. As it settled down, nestling against his palms, it hiccuped, and Carlos thought Cecil might possibly explode or melt.

             “Oh, and you don’t want to handle it too much either." The woman told them.  "You can keep it on the heating pad and cover the box for warmth, but you really want to limit interaction with it.”

             Carlos cocked a meaningful eyebrow at Cecil as he listened to this.

             “But why?”

             “It’s a wild animal. You don’t want it to imprint on you when you’re going to return it to the wild. It’s better for it if it’s got a healthy fear of people.  You hear about people raising orphan deer and then next hunting season, ka-blam! No one wants that.”

             “No. No, of course not.” Cecil agreed nodding along even as he continued stroking the tiny body he now had pressed to his chest again.

             “Cecil.” Carlos broke in.

             Cecil looked down at what he was doing and then up at Carlos, guilty. He bit his bottom lip, but allowed the scientist to take the creature and tuck it into the heated towel lined box.

 

             “Mr. Palmer!”

             The voice stopped Cecil just as he and Carlos got out of the car.

             “Oh, uh, hello Janice. How are you?”

             Janice Rio, from down the street, jogged up until she was between the pair and their front door. She wore a pink track suit with matching sneakers, and while she had ear buds in, Carlos noted they looked like they were attached to a radio receiver, not an mp3 player.

             “I am _so glad_ I caught you. There was a rumor last night that you brought home a new pet. And funny thing, a lot of people were saying it was an exotic.”

             Carlos bristled. “Why does that—ow…” 

             Cecil had stepped on his foot.

             “Oh Janice, you know rumors! Always so much juicier than the real story!” Cecil smiled easily and held up the animal’s box. “Unless a new kitten is exotic, I’m afraid what you heard is wrong.”

             “A kitten! What kind?”

             “It’s lovely.  A little black one — the mother left it so we’re having to hand feed it.  You’ll have to come over to see it when it’s bigger and playing.”

             “Oh, I will!  I’d love that.”

 

             Once inside, Cecil locked the door and took a couple deep breaths hugging the box.

             “What.” Carlos demanded. “Was that about?”

             Cecil twisted his mouth. “Well, Janice is one of the members of the HOA, and remember when I said that there were a few home owners restrictions when we moved in here?”

             “Yeah, you said it was nothing stringent.”

             “It wasn’t!  It was all stuff like, replace outdoor fencing to match your neighbors, no loud chanting after 10 pm, no garden gnomes or ceramic bird baths in the front yard, or ceremonial obelisks taller than 13 feet and apply to the homeowner’s board on the waning moon to request a variance…”

             “But?”

             “I never thought it would come up! There’s a little rule about only domesticated dogs and cats being allowed.  And they all have to be fixed, especially after that dreadful puppy infestation.  Everything else is considered exotic.  It’ll be okay though — this is temporary and I think she bought the kitten story.”

             “I’m going to have a talk with the SPO assigned to our street. Either that guy’s got a big mouth or he has no idea how to secure a channel.” He took the creature from Cecil. “But even if she isn’t buying it, what’s the worst that could happen? We pay a fine. Big deal.”

             “Right.” Cecil tried to sound confident. “Exactly. No big deal.”

             “Cecil?”

             Cecil tried to look relaxed, nonchalant. “Hmm?”

             “Is it a big deal?”

             “It might be a big deal.” Cecil gazed down at the box, then up at the ceiling and raised his voice theatrically. “But I’m sure it’s not.  It’s a kitten.  A cute adorable black kitten! Completely acceptable in the HOA bylaws!”


	3. Creature comforts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Classification of the animal defies the resources at the lab, but if Carlos really needs to use big words to describe it, he could probably call it a Mammal-ish Heterotroph. That sounds scientific, right? Cecil is more concerned with its wholistic well being.

          The rest of their Sunday was uneventful: Carlos made them a late breakfast, then fed the creature while Cecil took a nap to catch up from the night before. When Cecil woke, he took the next feeding, and then searched online for some black kitten snap shots to seed his Facebook page with in case the HOA was snooping his social media profiles.  Carlos only had to remind him a couple times about putting it back in its box and not cuddling it too much.

          “But it’s _asleep_.  It’s not like it _knows_ I’m holding it.” Cecil’s eyes flashed hopefully over his boyfriends face, reading the raised eyebrows and the small crooked smile. “Oh fine! Look! I’m putting it back.  All alone.  Just tiny it, in its box…”

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

          “It is not a fox.  But it’s not like it obviously looks like something else.” Carlos explained as he weighed samples of the top soil from the Whispering Forest. He was at the lab processing the humus collection with Rachelle.

          “That’s annoying about the HOA.  But you’ve seen baby rodents and kangaroos — they look like naked fetuses.” Rachelle shrugged.

          “Yeah, but this has hair, and specifically, it should have a _shape_. A definitive shape. I swear it looks different every time I see it. And that’s saying something considering we’ve only had it over the weekend.”

          “Babies grow quick.” She labeled a sample tray. “I’m sure the lady at the shelter knows what’s what.”

          Carlos snorted. “You’ll have to forgive me if I question the opinion of a volunteer who nannies arachnid puppies and snacks on dog treats.”

          Rachelle ignored this. “Carlos. Is Khoshekh feline?”

          “Yes.”

          “How do you know this?”

          “We borrowed his brush and ran a DNA test…”

          “So…” She held out her palms gesturing to the forest samples they were about to test for human DNA.

          Carlos rolled his eyes at himself. “Look. I never told Cecil about that, and if I do it in this situation, he’s going to think I just want to prove him wrong and say ‘I told you so’.”

          “Do you?”

          He laughed. “Actually, no. I don’t really care — it’s just… ….it’s so… It’s weird. Seriously, you just need to see it. Trust me. If you see it, you’ll want to know for sure too. Scientific imperative.”

          Rachelle dropped her scoop and tongs into an autoclave. “But if we were to run a test and get a definitive answer, would you be able to not let on if Cecil is wrong?”

          “Are you calling me a know-it-all?  Wait. Don’t answer that.”

          “Where is this mysterious thing now?”

          “Cecil’s got it until his show. He’s going to drop it by here on his way in.”

 

          When Cecil arrived with the animal, Rachelle just nodded and smiled as he gushed to her about how sweet it was, how much it ate, how soft its fur was and how he hated to leave it.  “It’s almost like you can see it growing!”

          “Cecil. It’ll be fine. Go to work.” Carlos pecked his cheek and wrested the box from his hands.

          When his boyfriend was gone, he set the container down and let Rachelle turn back the flaps and lift the blanket. They both gasped: Carlos because it had doubled in size and Rachelle because, well, because.

          “Are those flippers? Is that a spiracle? Oh never mind — just get me a swab.”

 

          The rest of the week continued with the two of them trading off keeping the animal while the other was at work, with the exception of it spending a few overlapping hours at the lab at the end of Carlos’s work day.  Cecil argued that he could get away with taking it to the station. “There are cats in the men’s room and no one seems to mind,” He pointed out, but Carlos didn’t think Station Management would indulge Cecil in interrupting his broadcast to warm formula or burp the thing. Also, the DNA test was inconclusive, so he and Rachelle had a rigorous and very scientific data collection routine to adhere to, making feeding and behavioral notes, taking progressive developmental photos of it, and bookmaking for the speculative betting pool amongst the rest of the team.

          By the end of the week the thing had several more nondescript appendages, longer thicker fur, a few chitinous scales, and had gone from mouse-sized to about the size of a healthy eggplant, and was roughly the same shape when it slept. When awake, it was as amorphous as an amoeba.

          “I think I’m going to run it by the shelter in the morning.” Cecil said over dinner on Friday. “I’ve been emailing with that volunteer and she suggested a check-up. You know, to weigh it and see if it’s ready for different food.”

          Carlos nodded and chewed, not mentioning that he could tell Cecil the creatures incremental weight changes down to 6 to 12 hour intervals. “Sounds good.”

          “Also, I don’t know if it should be moving around more? Sometimes it just sits in the box and sometimes it kind of gloms on the sides. Like it’s depressed.”

          “Cecil, it’s a baby.  They sleep a lot.”

          “I think it’s lonely. Babies need to be held.”

          Carlos had stopped saying anything to Cecil when he stroked and fussed over the thing after a feeding. He sort of thought of that as it’s reward after it spent a couple hours in the sterile lab environment being analyzed by he and Rochelle, but he hadn’t considered it as possibly a developmental necessity.  If they knew what it was, they could mimic parental behavior, like the zoologists who used bird puppets to feed raptors…

          “Maybe you should ask her about that.  I mean it has fur and it drinks milk, so scientifically it must be a mammal, or mammalish? Physical contact is a requirement for mammals.”  Carlos glanced over at the box feeling a twinge of guilt.

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

          At bedtime, Carlos brushed his teeth and stripped down to boxers before climbing beneath the covers. Cecil had already washed up, but like every night, he was arranging his bloodstones in a small circle by the bed to sit cross-legged in the center to chant. Carlos stretched and laid his head on his arm to watch and listen; he’d done yoga with a room mate that was very into Ohm-ing and whatever that breathing was called, and found Cecil’s nightly ritual relaxing.

          About halfway through his second round of intonation, there was a soft ‘clomp’ sound near the bathroom. Cecil opened an eye to peek over, but kept chanting, and Carlos saw the thing’s box had tipped on its side and the creature was sort of wibble-ing and oozing towards Cecil.  At last it paused in its effort, hitched up its bulk and stood on two twig-like multi-jointed legs and tottered into the circle, tripping on one of the stones as it reached its goal.

          Cecil didn’t even break breath or pause. He nudged the rock back into place with a toe and gathered the creature to his chest to continue chanting with his hands folded in prayer position and the thing cradled in the crook of his elbows.

          When he finished, he quietly moved across the dark room to tuck it back into its box before slipping into bed.

          “You think it’ll stay in there now?” Carlos sidled up behind him being the big spoon.

          “Sure.  Now that it’s quiet.”

          Carlos nosed the back of his neck playfully. “So it just likes your chanting?”

          “Uh huh. Lots of creatures like my voice.” Cecil smiled, a touch smugly. “Humans and otherwise. I’m told it’s very calming.”

          “Mmmhmm.” Carlos trailed his lips lightly up his boyfriend's neck, feeling him shudder, and before placing a small kiss at the base.

          “That,” Cecil purred, “Is the opposite of calming.”

          The scientist selected a new spot and nipped softly. “Ahh…” Cecil’s breath hitched and he heard Carlos snicker. “But still very nice. I think you’re right. Physical contact is a requirement for mammals.”

          Carlos cinched his arm around Cecil’s waist and squeezed, rubbing his cheek against the back of his neck, his shoulders. “I know I’m right.” He grinned. “But hey,” His voice, still soft, took on a serious tone. “When you take it in the morning, wait until I go out for my jog. I can text you if Janice or any HOA members are out trolling around.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was sort of short chapter, but I really wanted to get a bit more up. :) Comments are super welcome. Thanks for reading.


	4. Enrichment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cecil's not getting attached. He's not. And Carlos learns he should probably tag along when the errands are run.

.............................  

            On his jog the next morning, Carlos didn’t notice any nosy neighbors, nor did he notice a six-point mule deer standing and chewing quietly in the verge across the street. And if he had noticed, he probably would have just admired what a majestic looking creature it was, and not mentioned it to Cecil when he texted him that the neighborhood was all clear — because it was just a deer, not an HOA member.

           But the striking animal that silently watched Carlos jog, and later still, undisturbed by the quiet Prius, watched Cecil come and go from his errand, like all Night Vale deer, carried a passenger: Russel Swinson, head of the Greater Night Vale Realtor Association and newest and eagerest member of the Old Town Home Owners Association…

..............................................

           Cecil swept in from the meeting at the NVSPCA with one arm hugging the creatures box and the other loaded with bags from PetsMart.

           “What’s all this?” Carlos looked up from coffee and browsing Thermo Scientific on the laptop.

           “ _Enrichment_.” Cecil gushed. “It’s big enough it needs to exercise and be stimulated and learn motor skills and _hunting for when it catches its own prey.”_

           Carlos pulled a bright colored rubber bunny out of a bag. “Oh good.” He squeezed it, making a high pitched squeak. “For a moment there, I thought it was a bunch of toys.”

           Hearing the noise, there was an eager scrabbling noise from the box. Cecil let the container drop on it’s side and the animal slithered out, now ambling on undulating rows of hair like legs, until it sat up chirping, wiggling its fuzzy nose and clicking pincers at Carlos for the toy.

           Carlos’s eyes went wide and he pulled back a little. “When did this happen?”

           Cecil shrugged. “Ah, it had a little molt while we were at the shelter.”

           It whined eagerly, and Carlos noted the mouth seemed to have drifted to the underside of the creature.  Was that a beak? Also, the shiny new parts had a faint dark olive sheen. Presently, it tripped, made a tiny grunt, before rearing back up again, this time reaching little furry squirrel-like clawed paws for the rabbit.

           “Don’t tease it, Carlos.” Cecil took the toy and gently pitched it a few feet away where it bounced with an oink.

           The thing took off after it, looking like an alien toupee skimming the carpet.  The image gave Carlos the willies, but when it turned, clutching the bunny proudly and struggling to lift the large toy high enough to clear the carpet, he smiled. His mom was right: she used to say baby anything, just about, was cute. He patted the floor in front of him and began calling it back to him.

           Other enrichment items included some small stuffed mice, some feathers, tennis balls, a fishing pole lure toy, and a harness and leash.  “Oh and she said we could start offering it a little watered down wet food to start weening it off the bottle.” Cecil added pulling some fancy brand of canned cat food out last.

           “Did she say what it is?”

           Cecil tossed the squeaky for the creature again. “Don’t be silly. It’s a kitten.” He said clearly, then cupped his hands around his lips and mouthed silently “Fox kitten” at Carlos and winked.

 

..............................................

 

           By the end of the weekend, it molted a second time, revealing even denser longer hair, a few more legs, among other appendages buried in the light-eating dark fur and a prominent  tentacle hub along it’s lower back. (Or was that a thorax or abdomen? Carlos wondered.) To be fair, when it zipped forward, holding the tentacles together like a cuttle fish propelling, they were shaped roughly like a fox’s brush tail.

           It also seemed a lot happier with the toys and interaction.  It played fetch with Cecil until time for a feeding, then guzzled down a bottle and zonked out like a limp dead thing, and after an hour was up and eager to play all over again.

           Cecil also brought it to bed with them.

           “Really?” Carlos cocked an eyebrow.

           “Just tonight.”  Cecil fluffed up the duvet and set the creature on it at the foot of the bed. The animal stomped in circles until it had created a thing-sized dimple in the fluffiness then curled up with a satisfied grunt.

           “Yeah, right.”

           “Jealous?” Cecil smirked.

           "‘Just tonight’ will turn into tomorrow night and then the next…”

           Cecil began laying out his bloodstones. “Weird Scout’s honor, no it won’t. Tomorrow I will find a bigger box at work and make it a nice bed for the floor. So… How’s your head? I mean, has it bothered your allergies?”

           This distracted Carlos. “Actually, no.  Not at all.”

           Cecil beamed.  “I’m so glad. Oh, and I meant to tell you. It really liked riding in the car!”

           “Cecil? You let it out of the box in the car?”

           “Only a little bit. On the ride home from PetsMart.  It was so cute — it got so excited and then just kind of stuck itself to the windshield glass like a starfish.”

           Carlos took a deep breath, afraid to ask: “You didn’t take it out in PetsMart did you?”

           “No! Of course not.  But I really wanted to — I mean, it would have made picking out what it liked a lot easier — but I kept it hidden in the box.”

           “But not in the car?”

           “It sort of got out, and then I thought no one could see it below the doors down in the seat, and by the time the window thing happened, we were back in the neighborhood and you had texted that no one was out— Oh god. Carlos,” Cecil suddenly looked stricken. “I really shouldn’t have done that.”

           The scientist scooted over and put an arm around Cecil. “Hey, no one came banging on the door, right? We’ll be more careful. Besides, at the rate it’s growing, it may be ready to release before anyone can notice or complain.”

           Cecil nodded and leaned into him, casting a sad look at the sleeping creature.

 

 

_to be continued..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another shortie chapter -- sorry 'bout that. The holiday busies are interrupting my super important fictional fun time. *sigh*
> 
>  
> 
> [Oh, oh, and we found a really nice spiderwolf baby snap! ](http://alephandmutt.tumblr.com/post/105614577564%0A)


	5. Cards and Letters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An awful lot of writing utensils get used and another member of the household weighs in on the new pet.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

        Cecil was good to his word about not bringing the creature to bed again. On Monday night, he brought home a sturdy copier paper box, trimmed down a side so the thing could climb in and out easier, and lined it with a pillow and towels.  The creature stood by, but it was hard for Carlos to say it watched when he couldn’t see any eyes on it.

        “There we are.” Cecil fluffed the bedding and tossed one of the animal’s stuffed mice into it. “Look, Carlos, it likes it.”

        Sure enough, the creature had slithered into the box, and was now dismembering the mouse and arranging stuffing into the corners like a hamster — a many, many legged hamster.

        “Charming.” Carlos said.  “Did you look through the mail?”

        “No. Why?”

        Carlos frowned and handed him a bright pink envelope. Inside was what looked like a baby shower card, but when Cecil opened it, a PetsMart gift card dropped out and typed inside was:

        “Congratulations on your new kitten! We can’t wait to meet your new bundle of joy! Don’t forget to register your new pet with the Old Town Night Vale Homeowners Association registry of resident animals within 30 days. Just a reminder! Best wishes, your friends, the Old Town Night Vale Homeowners Association.”

        Cecil swallowed and patted his thigh absently, calling the creature to his hand. “Ug. This isn’t good.”

        “I didn’t think it looked good. Still, 30 days is a fair amount of time. And there’s nothing to indicate anyone thinks it _isn’t_ a kitten.”

        “Exactly.” Cecil agreed brightening. “And hey, gift card score, right?”

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

        Tuesday night was bowling league night. Sometimes Carlos went along to have a beer and volunteer as scorekeeper, but more recently Pamela Winchell had joined Cecil’s group.  Carlos didn’t mind Pamela, but trying to talk down Trish Hidge from seconding his record keeping or standing on top of the ball return to proclaim the former mayor’s spares as strikes and accuse the remaining pins of insubordination and demand their arrest was more than he wanted to sign up for.  Tonight he was glad to have watching the creature as an excuse to stay home and catch up on reading a couple dendrology articles for his soil research.

        The thing still slept a lot, especially after meals, but now that it wasn’t confined to the box, when it was awake it was, well, underfoot. It frisked along after Carlos as he fixed dinner, looped around his ankles as he carried the mail to their upstairs office — and when it tripped him coming back down the stairs, he grabbed the banister in a quick save and scooped it under one arm like a football.  

        “We’re going to have to work on this or get some pet gates.” He told it sternly.  The thing just wriggled eagerly and chirped.

…………………..

        When Cecil got home from bowling, he was met at the door by the thing quivering with excitement, wagging all of its tentacles so hard they smacked the door, rat-a-tat-tat, and drooling (at least Cecil hoped it was drool) some black ichor onto the linoleum.  “Where’s Carlos, little one?” He patted his chest in invitation and quickly caught it as it sprang up to be held.  After a cuddle and pet, it climbed to drape along Cecil’s shoulders and wound several coils around his neck.

        Rounding into the living area, Cecil found Carlos snoring on the couch with a handwritten note resting over his face.

        Cecil picked up the paper.  “You are the worst babysitter.”

        “Huh?” Carlos sat up, confused. “Oh crap. Everything alright?” He looked around.

        “Fine.” Cecil smiled scanning the note. “I’ll never cease to be amazed at what she can do with a sharpened chopstick and some plain old beet juice. Spencerian hand is truly a lost art.”  He handed the missive to Carlos and headed for the kitchen.

        The letter was from the Faceless Old Woman:

        “Congratulations on your new whatever this is. I was dubious at first about what it would be like sharing your home with yet another being, but I have found I enjoy its company. But I do not think you are providing enough mental stimulation for your new charge. I streamed some classical music for it today while it helped me investigate the varieties of new insects colonizing your attic, and also the ones tunneling in your crawl space and the sizable colony that has ambitiously filled your south side walls. I would tell you what type of insects they are, but I am not an entomologist.  If I were, I would not tell you anyway because I enjoy monitoring their progress and to identify them might help you exterminate them. The silverfish, and I will call them silverfish even though they are far too large to be silverfish, have some interesting classification ideas about what family of animals this creature belongs to… But I digress.  

        It liked the classical music I think.

        Also, it is a formidable chess player. I do not like the game myself, but we played twelve times this week and it did not employ the same opening gambit twice.

        And while I am sure you are quite confident in the over-the-counter milk replacement that woman at the animal shelter provided, I think it needs more calcium. I am sure it needs more calcium. Eggshells are a good source, so I gave it yours. I am not wasteful, so I’ve hidden the whites and yolks, separated of course, for you somewhere in the house.

        Also, don’t you think you should give it a name? Hiram, I think, is a lovely name. Just a thought.”

        Carlos folded the letter up as he padded to the kitchen where Cecil was popping dinner in the microwave.

        “Labels…labels…” Cecil was cooing to the thing. “Hmph. you don’t need those, do you?” 

        It clicked its mandibles and made a cricket chirp as Cecil scratched it behind a tympanic membrane.

        “Cecil.” Carlos broke in. “Where’s the chessboard?”

…………………..

        The scientist had to admit, the thing did play a challenging game. But it also had a bad habit of eating the king once it placed its opponent in mate. It ate the salt shaker Carlos started the game with, and then the bottle of whiteout he found to stand in next. Cecil took up the board before he could reset it for a third match. “At least until you find healthier options. Something with more fiber maybe and not just empty calories.”

…………………..

        Later, after it snuggled with Cecil while he performed his chanting, Carlos was impressed to see the animal return to its new box bed of its own accord.

        As Cecil slipped beneath the covers, Carlos scooted up behind him and hugged him back against his chest. “Mmm. My turn.” He murmured.

        “So you _are_ jealous.” Cecil snickered softly.

        “I admit nothing.” Carlos grinned and rubbed his cheek against a shoulder blade. “Cecil, who all is on your league team now?”

        “Me, Josie, John Peters, you know the—“

        “Yeah, yeah…”

        “And Pamela. Trish always comes, but she doesn’t really play. Why?”

        “I’m just thinking, you are personal friends with the current and now former mayor — surely we could get some sort of exception for the you-know-what.”

        “Not their jurisdiction.  It’d be like expecting the Sheriff’s Secret Police to have some say over the librarians.”

        “You mean they don’t?”

        “I think the librarians play ball a little bit — maybe let them think they’re afraid of tasers and stun guns, but I personally saw a librarian eat a deputy and an Animal Control Officer with a flamethrower over an overdue copy of the Fondue Bible.  I’m not sure if they were more upset with the unpaid fines or the grease spots on the flyleaf…”

        Carlos sighed. “I don’t want to say this, but I think maybe we need to tell the animal shelter what’s going on and see if another foster home opens up, or even if it’s big enough to house at the shelter.”

        “Or…” Cecil said brightly. “The SPCA could loan us a kitten to show them and get them off our backs!”

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

        Carlos got up in the night to pee, and padded blearily in the dark to the bathroom reminding himself that a second beer before bed did this every time… He heard a familiar skitter, but only paused momentarily before his drowsy brain connected that the creature was probably tagging along …  …as usual.

        There was enough light in the toilet that he didn’t even flip the switch; just did his business leaning a shoulder on the wall sleepily. He could hear chitinous claws frisking on the tiles and felt a hair-like brush over the top of his bare foot that made him shiver.

        “Baby gates.” He told the thing. “I see baby gates in your future, Lieutenant Underfoot.”

        As he leaned forward to flush, the claws grew quiet, then still. Carlos paused. The hairs on his arm were standing up, and he didn’t know why — probably just left over from the light brush over his toes a moment ago?  Maybe. Still, the silence was tense.  He slowly reached over and flipped on the light.

        At his exposed feet, a mere scant inches away, was a large scorpion with a bright sickly pink vein running down its back. It had its tail and front pinchers raised, obviously agitated. Cecil had told him the Pink Racers were bad —not just painful, but aggressive, fast and venomous. The creature was here also, standing stiff-legged between Carlos and the arachnid, puffed up double its size, front appendages raised, and swaying silently like a cobra.  

        Carlos swallowed, but didn’t move.

        Slowly, so very slowly, the creature’s tentacles glided back, silently covering and shielding Carlos’s feet.

        In a flash, one of the animals tendrils whipped out, caught the scorpion’s tail, and flipped it into the bathtub and instantly, the creature leaped in after it. Before Carlos could do anything, the fight was over and the thing was feeding scorpion parts into its beak with its pedipalps and crunching happily.

        After a few deep breaths, Carlos ventured to move and check the rest of the tile floor. All clear.

        Scorpion polished off, the creatures cocked its fuzzy antenna a little at Carlos.  “Good boy, er, or girl?  Good little one.” Carlos knelt and stroked it.

        Chirping and oinking, the thing wiggled and danced around Carlos’s hand, then frisked rings around the inside of the tub, ecstatic.

        “Shh… Shhh…” Carlos knelt and caught it, scooping it up to quiet it.  He carried it back into the bedroom, and with a brief glance at its towel lined box, brought it with him back to bed.  Cecil was still dead to the world; they hadn’t woken him. He set it down in the duvet at the foot.  

        The thing trilled at him softly in the dark. 

        “Shh. Not a word.” He whispered and settled back under the covers. He felt it circle near his legs a couple times and then the soft weight of its tentacles resting over his feet.

 

_to be continued_

…………………..

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long break -- dang ol' holidays. Here's hoping Carlos is being won over by the critter. :)


	6. Independence and Interdependence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some of the practical concerns of pet care and concealment are addressed and Carlos gets a wake up call on attachment issues.

............................

 

            It was a question that was perfectly reasonable, and begged to be answered, and even itched just a little bit at the back of the scientists mind, but ultimately was one that if Carlos addressed it, he might not like the answer he found.

            The animal was eating solid food — no more bottle — and running around the house.  Where was it going to the bathroom?

            It wasn’t that he’d found a mess anywhere… Either Cecil or the faceless old woman who secretly lived in their home was cleaning it up (which didn’t seem likely) or other arrangements were being made.

            Working from home this morning, he watched Cecil pad out of bed around 11 with the creature frisking at his heels.  The radio host served it a can of wet cat food with a sleepy smile, and while it gobbled it down, made himself coffee with a yawn.

            As the coffee maker hissed and sputtered, the animal spun it’s heavy bowl vigorously slurping it clean, then raced to the back door and trilled. Cecil automatically walked over and cracked the sliding glass door open for it. As it zipped into the back yard, Cecil followed and began to do some yoga stretches on the porch.

            Carlos closed his laptop.

            “Cecil!” He hissed, poking his head outside. “What are you doing?”

            “I think this one’s called ‘pouting monkey’. I forget.”

            The scientist threw open the door, crouched and whistled. Chirping, the creature actually kicked up dirt in it’s speed to come to Carlos and leap in his lap. “People could see!”

            “We have a privacy fence. Besides it needs exercise and to potty.” Cecil gave him an incredulous look, “Where did you think it was going?”

            “I had wondered,” He admitted backing into the house. “But you can’t do this. Someone will see. _Someone probably has seen_.”

            Cecil untangled his legs and stood, following Carlos. “Well, I had thought we might need to come up with an alternative like newspaper or a litter box or something. You know, for when no one can let it out.”

 

            Carlos’s first choice was for a litter box, so Cecil dug out Khoshekh’s old one and set it up beside the back door.  

            Clicking and circling it, the creature’s whiskers shivered as it investigated. 

            “I think it’s going in.” Cecil elbowed the scientist. “It’s like an instinct.”

            The animal did climb in, then began to dig, scramble, hop, roll over and feverishly shake, like a sparrow or chinchilla taking a dust bath.

            An hour later when Carlos finished vacuuming cat litter out of the drapes, and Cecil coaxed the terrified animal out from under the bed, (it HATED the vacuum) they tried spreading some papers down by the back door. The creature sniffed them, walked over them, then began to root underneath them, drag them around the room and shred them.

            “We’re working backwards, Carlos.” Cecil sighed, trying not to smile at the animal enjoying the Night Vale Daily Journal. “With feeding it on a schedule I shifted it right into going to the bathroom outside after meals. It’s not going to understand us trying to get it to go in the house.”

            “A scientist believes in operant conditioning.”

            “Oh, Carlos, no!”

            “Relax. Only positive reinforcement.”

 

            Carlos got online and began searching training protocols. But not knowing what exactly it was, made it more difficult to find specific techniques. In the end, he decided to mimic what Cecil had already done.

            He dug up a bucket full of the dry sandy soil from the yard and filled the litter box with this, including just a little bit of an area the creature had already soiled. “To give it the right idea.” He explained.

            After it’s evening can of food, they waited until it went to the back door and presented it with the new box.

            The animal sniffed it curiously, then went back to the door and pressed itself against the glass whining.

            Carlos held Cecil back and knelt by the box and called the animal. When it came to him, he gave it a raisin and lifted it into the box, talking to it encouragingly. “What do you say to it outside?” He asked Cecil.

            “Very little. Some moments are private.”

            “You don’t praise it for doing it’s business?”

            “That’s what I do pretty much the rest of the time… Oh, look! Shh!”

            “Oh, good job little one!” He gave it a couple more raisins after it finished. “Cecil, if you tell any of my team I just rewarded an animal for piddling in the house…”

            “Not a word.”

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

            Cecil needed to go into the station early.

            “There’s a whole bunch of new sponsors and we just got the copy for their promos. I need like, two extra hours? At least.”

            Carlos shook his head. “I can’t leave that early. We’re doing field work and it’s an hour out to Red Mesa.”

            Twisting his mouth, Cecil cut a side-eyed glance towards the creature, which was playing hide and seek under the crumpled paper and box from Carlos’s last order from Edmund Scientific. It caught his look and quickly withdrew its feelers and whiskers into the mess, only to poke a curious wiggling nose back out hopefully. Cecil tried to restrain a smile.

            “It’s been perfect on potty training. I suppose it would be okay in the house alone for an hour? Could you be back by five?”

            Relieved he wasn’t being asked to take it with him on a day that would be mostly outdoors in the open, Carlos agreed. “Give me the watch and I’ll be sure of it.”

…………………..

            What Carlos hadn’t anticipated was car trouble with the lab’s old truck, or how long it would take Larry Leroy to drive out for a tow.

            Now he looked at the watch irritably as he and Larry slowly chugged back towards town hauling the stalled vehicle. It was after 8 pm, and regardless what mess he might have to clean up at home to hide it, he did not want to tell Cecil he’d left the thing alone for almost 6 hours — or that he’d elected not to call him for fear he’d skip out on work and anger Station Management to go check on it.

            Maybe he should have though? Cecil got a lot done during the weather…

            A little after 9 pm he made it home and stepped into the dark foyer. No wriggling thing greeted him. “Here little one. Here now.” Carlos called flipping on the lights. “Where are you?”

            No response. The living room was quiet, but appeared in one piece. The kitchen looked okay too.  Carlos had friends whose beagle flipped out if it was ever without people; wetting the carpet, clawing the wood of the doors and tearing down curtains and blinds trying to get out and find someone. He felt a moment of relief to see things in order, then a cold thought struck him.

            The HOA.

            Had they snuck in? They would be in their rights to remove any animal that wasn’t a cat or dog on the property.

            Carlos began flipping on lights, checked the laundry room, under the breakfast table. “Little one?”

            He stalked to the bedroom and hit the overhead.

            In here, he heard a whimper response.  The animal was up on the bed and had curled up on the side where Cecil slept. It had also pulled other Cecil-smelling things into a nest around it: the shirt he wore the day before, a sock from the hamper and the municipally approved novel from his bedside table. Night Vale City Council seemed to approve an awful lot of Dan Brown books, Carlos thought glumly as he watched the creature coil a tendril around it and slither its body halfway underneath, trembling and whining like a cowering dog.

            “Hey little one. I’m home. I’m here.” Carlos lowered his voice. “Did you think we left you? I’m so sorry.”

            The creature slid an eyestalk out and blinked at him before tentatively wagging a tentacle a little.

            Carlos slowly put a hand out and it whimpered as he stroked its lumpy black furred area — was that its back?

            Very gingerly, he scooped it up and held it cradled in his arms, continuing to stroke the furry bit, and the animal just shook.

            Suddenly Carlos felt horrible.  

            Cecil had a lonely streak.  Not so much abandonment, but just that the circumstances of his life had separated him from his family. As a public figure — one perpetually reporting on citizens mortality — he felt it his duty to put up a positive front as much as he could, which made him feel even more isolated when he had no one to talk to just for himself, warts and all.  He didn’t wallow in it— but Carlos knew.  Knew in the way he was always willing and happy to be held, to melt against Carlos. The way the first few times he’d tensed and trembled, before giving up with a swallow and shuddering sigh, then pressing in closer.  The last time he’d shaken like that had been when Carlos got back from the other desert…

            Just like this small animal was doing right now, huddling against his middle, shivering and unable to stop whimpering a little with each exhale. It wasn’t that pets had no concept of time.  They did.  But they had no tools with which to measure and place it in context.  Sort of like everyone in Night Vale.  A handful of hours seemed like an eternity to this creature, not knowing if it were abandoned. What seemed like a scant couple of weeks were endless months to Cecil, also not knowing.

            Carlos sat on the bed and tugged Cecil’s shirt over to wrap around the animal as he continued to hold it close and pet it.  “I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry little one.”

             Eventually the creature stilled and hooked its claws into the front of Carlos’s shirt. When he felt it climbing, he loosed his arms to let it move, and it scaled up to settle over his chest and shoulder and drew several coils around his neck, exactly the way it glommed on to Cecil.

            “Alright then?” Carlos reached up to pet it. “You’re okay?”

            The creature leaned into him, claws hooked firmly in his shirt, and hooted softly.

            

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a while since I've posted. I'm in a weird place with this -- I had the ending planned out, which turned into writing it. I usually write episodic key scenes and then fill in around them, but rarely the whole ending. Anyway, there's still a chapter or so until I get to it, so you're stuck with me a bit longer. :)


	7. Walkies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea what the leash laws are like in Night Vale. But I do know that with the Dog Park being off-limits, Mission Grove is probably the place to be for the pet set.

      Cecil woke to something tickling his nose. Opening an eye, he found the creature perched up near his face, patting him down with its feelers. He grinned and trilled to it softly. The animal chirped back.

      It was Saturday and Carlos had left the alarm off. While normally, Cecil would have happily had a lazy lie-in, for some reason he was wide awake this morning. He slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb Carlos, and patted his thigh calling the animal to follow as he headed for the kitchen.

      He fed the animal breakfast while he had coffee and cereal and looked over his email.

      The creature devoured the food, zipped a few laps around the living room, then made use of the litter box. When it was done, it rubbed around Cecil’s ankles a few times, then went to the back door and stuck itself to the glass like a hairy barnacle and whined.

      Cecil raised an eyebrow from his laptop. “What’s up?”

      The animal whimpered in response and inch wormed its body up the glass, scrabbling silently at the door with all its slender legs.

      “Oh, you want to go outside? Is that it? Poor thing. How about we play?”  Cecil got one of its toys that didn’t squeak and threw it for it. “You need more exercise than you’re getting cooped up in here. I forget you’re not a lazy house cat sometimes.”

      The animal’s eye stalks followed the toy’s flight from where it hung on the glass, then looked at Cecil pleadingly as it slithered up the door some more.

      “No fetch? Hmm. Okay. Hang on.”

 

      Cecil returned to it a few minutes later, dressed and with the harness and leash. “I can’t take you out-out in the neighborhood, but I don’t see why we couldn’t got to the park.”  He scribbled a note for Carlos and found the creature’s box — which was a much tighter fit these days, but still served to hide it.

 

      Mission Grove Park was a hive of activity on a Saturday morning before the desert sun got scorchingly hot. There was a child’s birthday party going on at the picnic tables, complete with a mariachi band and gila monster piñata. On the main lawn, Maliq Herrera was throwing a frisbee for his secret terrier and by the Joshua tree grove, Michelle Nguyen had her sphinx cat out on leash and was rubbing sunscreen into its pink back and adjusting its earbuds. 

      Cecil waved hello to Old Woman Josie who was busy tossing bacon bits to a pack of rowdy buzzards. He would have come closer, but after his last encounter with buzzards, he decided to leave her to it.

      Finding a quiet spot, Cecil knelt down and opened the box. “You ready to try the leash?” While he was certain the animal would come when called, he thought it better not to take any chances.  The creature hooted at him as he slipped the harness on and wiggled happily as he clipped on the leash and turned it loose.

      It had occurred to him that even outside the neighborhood, the animal might raise a few eyebrows… But after a brisk circuit of one of the main trails, letting the animal frisk and dig and root, he realized this silly worry had come from Carlos. These were Night Vale natives. Not only did they not bat an eyelash, several children from the birthday party hurried over to ‘Ooo’ and ‘Ahh’ and pet the creature.

      “That a shih tzu? I didn’t know they came in black.” This from a dad passing out cake.

      “Ah… It’s a mutt.” Cecil accepted an offered slice on a paper plate. “Oh, thank you.”

      “Little spiderwolf in there I’d guess.” The man nodded conversationally.  “Maybe some dachshund…”

      “That’s just what we were thinking.”

 

      When the kids shifted their attention to the piñata, Cecil headed down a quieter trail shaded by some of the few large trees. The creature seemed calmer now, happy to snuffle around in the leaf litter and crunch on some palmetto bugs it caught in its tendrils.

      Cecil paused in the shade of an abnormally large tree and looked up in its branches. The creature did the same, then scratched at the marker plaque by it. “It says this is a historic Wasp Gall Pine, the largest tree in Night Vale.”

      His phone chimed.

      Fishing it out he saw the text was from Carlos: “Having fun?”

      Cecil grinned and responded with a thumbs up icon. “I got birthday cake.”

      “Jealous.”

      Above them, cicadas began to buzz with their rattling cry and the animal mimicked it in response.

      “What’s that?”

      Cecil shifted the leash loop to his wrist so he could text easier. “Some bugs. Did you run any tests on the Wasp Gall Pine?”

      “No. Why?”

      “We’re under it.”

      “Get me a sample?”

      Cecil grinned. “Of course.”

      Pocketing the phone, Cecil looked around for something to pry bark off with, and then realized his leash was slack. Pulling up the length, he found an empty harness.

      “Little one?” He searched the base of the tree frantically. “Little one?”

      Rising panic squeezed his heart, and then he heard a crunch.

      The cicadas were quiet.

      Looking up, high, high, high in the pine, he spied the creature, tentacles wrapped around a branch. Its feelers vibrated with tension, and then a tendril shot out like a frog’s tongue, returning to its beak with one of the fat brown insects.

      “There you are!” Cecil gasped.

      The creature’s eyestalks flicked down upon him and it made a quavering trill.

      “Come down here. Come on. We should head home…”

      Looking down again, the animal whined and shook. Cecil could see it tightening its coils around the branch it sat on.

      “Really? You climb up but you're scared to climb down?”

      “Isn’t that always the way with kittens?”

      Cecil spun around. “Oh, ha. Hello Janice. Ah, yeah. What a cliche, right? Cat up a tree…” He violently willed the rictus grin on his face to somehow look relaxed and friendly.

      His neighbor was in her pink track outfit, and she continued to jog in place even as she squinted up in the branches. “My, it really is up there. Shoot, I need my glasses.” She began to fish in her pockets.

      Cecil looked around desperately for any sign of help. Was that the back of Josie’s head he made out over the park bench? Behind his back he made a frantic shooing gesture, hoping the creature would hide itself.

      “Ooo. Is that it?” Mrs. Rio, now in thick cat-eyes, pointed to a little patch of black fur.

      “Yes.” Cecil swallowed and nodded. “Really got herself way on up there! But you know, when they’re ready they always come down.”

      “Sure. Tell that one to the fire department.” Janice laughed. 

      “Ha. Ha.” Cecil stuttered. He spied the woman from the NVSPCA further down the trail walking a string of the now much larger spiderwolf pups. Did she see him?

      “You know,” Janice said, stretching her shoulders and striding forward. “I think I could climb it.”

      “Oh no! No, no, no. I couldn’t ask you to do that!” Cecil leaped between her and the tree. “Not when I’m asking Carlos to bring a ladder. Much safer!” He held out his phone and began texting furiously.

      Down the trail, there was a faint chime, and Janice looked over her shoulder just in time to see the NVSPCA volunteer look at her incoming text.

      Janice’s eyes flashed back to Cecil, pinning him in her gaze. “All the way from home? That’s a lot of trouble.”

      “Hey, Mr. Palmer, you having trouble with that new kitten?”

      Cecil almost squeaked with relief. “Yes. Yes I am.”

      Janice tried to give the volunteer a menacing look, but she was now in a tangle of leashes attached to frantically happy arachnid puppies. To her horror, several of them began to climb her legs, hooking little claws into the pink fleece of her sweat pants and tugging them down.

      “Here, ma’am. If you’ll hold these, I’ll see what I can do.” The animal shelter worker thrust a fistful of leashes into either of Janice’s hands, at which point the puppies shot off in different directions pulling her with them and half of them breaking free.

      Cecil watched his neighbor stumble away down the trail, then looked to the tree and back to the NVSPCA volunteer. 

      She shrugged. “I don’t have a magical animal in the tree magnet, but maybe I bought you some time?”

      “But your puppies…”

      “Pshaw. They’ll come back.” She pulled a box of Snausages out of her satchel and shook it. The two closest pups immediately turned and raced back for her. “See? Better get that ladder.” She grabbed up the loose dog’s leashes and jogged lazily after Janice. “Hey lady? Lady? You need some help?”

 

      When she was gone, Cecil frowned up into the tree branches. “Little one?” He could see a quivering patch of hair sticking out behind the high branch. “C’mon now. Carlos will kill me if he finds out about this.” An eyestalk blinked at him and he could hear its frightened whimper.

      “Well, if it can climb up, you can too Cecil,” he told himself. Besides, he reasoned, hugging the trunk and feeling for handholds in the bark, you may have fewer limbs, but you have a much better reach…

      About twelve feet up, the main hunk of bark he was gripping tore from the tree and he scrambled to grasp something else, feet paddling frantically against the trunk. Falling, he braced himself for the impact…

      …That didn’t come.

      Cecil opened his eyes and found himself hugged against an impossibly tall luminous glowing black creature. It blinked down at him with seven pairs of eyes and smiled beatifically as it plopped him butt first into a pile of pine needles.

      “I don’t know which is more graceful. Watching you molest that poor pine or falling on your ass just now.” Josie told him. She handed him a Kleenex from her purse.

      “Thanks.” Cecil mopped the sudden tears away and looked up to see the winged creature drift through the branches and collect his pet.

      Returning, the being still smiled as it put the animal in Cecil’s hands and then it patted both of them on the head.

      “Thank—“

      “Ah-ah.” Josie cut him off. “You saw nothing. Nothing happened here.”

      “I saw nothing.” Cecil agreed. “Nothing happened here.”

…………..<+>……………

      On the ride home, the thing curled up agreeably in its box, none the worse for wear. Cecil, on the other hand, felt a little fried. Arriving at the house, he heaved a sigh of relief as he made his way inside and kicked the front door shut behind him.

      “Cecil? Is that you?”

      The animal scrabbled frantically at the cardboard hearing the scientist’s voice. Cecil knelt and released the creature from its box and it raced to the living room.

      “Oh my god Carlos, you will not believe—“ Cecil began, shedding his jacket.

      “Uh, Cecil! Guess who dropped by!”

      Rounding the corner Cecil’s eyes went wide as he spotted Janice, his niece. 

      “Holy cow! What is that thing?” The creature frisked towards her right as her stepfather snatched the child up and away from it. “Alien! ALIEN!”

      “OH MY GOD. IT IS NOT AN ALIEN STEVE CARLSBERG!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: It's vital for Michelle to put sunscreen on her cat to protects its tattoos. :)
> 
> I haven't meant to leave this one languishing so long. Hopefully the next chapter will be sooner.   
> Thanks for reading!  
> Comments are the catnip and Milkbones of life. :)


	8. Aliens and Invaders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve's theory about the animal's origins might be pretty accurate.  
> And also, some other stuff happens.

           Carlos had never felt more like he was diffusing a bomb, not even that time some joker mislabeled the acids and bases in high school chemistry.  Standing by the coffee table, he had Cecil to his left hugging the creature, and backed up to the far wall on his right was his (soon to be?) brother-in-law clutching Janice up so high, she was practically sitting on his shoulder.

           Only the ones being held hostage seemed reasonable.

           “Dad, c’mon. It’s just a baby.” Janice pointed squirming. “Look at its little whiskers.”

           The creature wiggled a tendril towards her chirping, and Cecil patted it approvingly, then scowled at Steve when the gesture made his brother-in-law recoil further away.

           “Okay. First, no one is in any danger,” Carlos said slowly. “I think we need to start by putting our loved ones down…”

           Steve eyed the thing and swallowed. Cecil’s mouth was a thin angry line, but it softened a bit as his eyes flashed from Steve to Carlos and back.

           “Steve, you know Cecil loves Janice very much. He’d never let something that would hurt her anywhere near her. The animal won’t hurt her,” Carlos began. “Okay? And Cecil, Steve’s never seen one of these, so he’s just protecting your niece. And if you didn’t recognize something, maybe you’d call it an ‘alien’ too, right?”

           “I wouldn’t.” Cecil growled.

           “Ok. Still. Protecting your niece…”

           Carlsberg was already crumbling, lowering Janice to his chest. “No, you’re right, Carlos.”

           “Cecil?”

           “Okay. Okay. He’s looking out for Janice.” His boyfriend looked down, embarrassed, then smiled at his niece. “Do you want to meet it, sweetheart? It loves new friends.”

           “Great.” Carlos sighed watching Steve set the girl on the couch and join her. “I’ll get us some drinks.”

 

           Over coffee and Steve’s scones, Cecil rounded up the creatures toys for Janice while Carlos explained how they’d found the animal. The critter, despite having just had a workout at the park, had apparently rested enough on the car ride home. It was eager to play and thrilled to have a new person fuss over it.

           Steve watched it skim the carpet and use a feeler to investigate the plate of pastries on the coffee table.  “Would you look at that thing? I mean, _look_ at it. It is clearly not of this world!”

           Carlos sniffed, gently scooting the people food away from the nosy feeler. “I would argue that it’s ability to breath oxygen and its instinctual hunting of nutritious and edible bugs suggests that it most certainly _is_ of Earth.”

           “But it’s soooo weird.”

           “ _And_ I would think an abandoned alien life form might be showing a bit more distress adapting to a completely new environment, scientifically speaking.”

           “Maybe,” Steve suggested, “Maybe it wasn’t abandoned. Maybe it was placed here on purpose. Maybe sharp intellects from beyond heard Cecil’s show and learned he was a big softy when it came to small furry animals.”

           Janice giggled at this, flinging the rabbit squeaky and watching the creature sail in mid leap over Steve’s lap in pursuit.

           Carlos rolled his eyes. Earlier, before Cecil returned, Steve had dismissed his new telescope lenses saying red and blue color shift was an illusion and besides, “How accurate can any of this equipment be if it can’t pick up the shapes and arrows present?”

           A glance at Cecil told him his partner was half irritated and half smugly amused to see the scientist’s patience wearing thin.

           “Okay, well. Alien or unusual bit of wildlife, it hasn’t turned us into pod people. What do you propose we do with it? Turn it in to the Sheriff’s Secret Police? The zoo?”

           Steve scratched his head, absently dunking a scone into his coffee until it disintegrated as he watched the creature wiggle in Janice’s lap like a puppy. “God no. It does seem friendly. I didn’t mean to imply—“

           Cecil raised a critical eyebrow expectantly.

           “Well really. It ought to be here,” Steve concluded. “What could be safer than having it observed by the town’s best scientist?”

           “So you won’t tell anyone?”

           “N-no. No. Of course not.”

 

           After Cecil had hugged Janice goodbye and she and Steve were gone, he dropped down beside Carlos on the couch. With a weary sigh, he set his head on the scientist’s shoulder. “Whew.”

           “So you think we can trust him?” Carlos patted his knee and the creature scrambled to his lap and nestled between them.

           Cecil rolled his eyes. “Are you kidding? Steve Carlsberg is the biggest loud mouth.”

           “Yeah, but no one pays any attention to him.”

           “Good point.”

 

…………..<+>……………

 

 

           While Tuesday night was regular league night, the playoffs against Pine Cliff had been scheduled for Sunday, leaving Carlos to babysit once more.  He wondered how challenging it could be to bowl against ghosts. It seemed either no challenge (Could something immaterial even pick up a ball?) or an impossible opponent able to manipulate the physical and astral plain with ectoplasm and telekinesis and probably jujitsu…

           Around 9, the scientist heard the front door and Cecil singing out, “I’m hooome!” They must have won. He paused from stirring pasta sauce to watch the black and olive lump clinging to the corner of the breakfast nook ceiling quiver and stir at the voice.  Scaling the sheetrock and hanging from the ceiling was its newest trick, although it did it with such ease Carlos wondered if just maybe climbing were only a new trick to _him_ … One trembling membraned limb emerged and unfurled, stretched and retracted, then a second, then a third. It looked like a small umbrella doing the wave. Next a few tentacles dropped down and then the whole thing, making a screech like an excited macaw, flipped over and plopped on the floor.  It quickly rose up, on dozens of long whip thin legs and zipped towards Cecil with an eager trill.

           Cecil crouched down with open arms and gathered it up to him, nuzzling into the mass of fluff and carapace and scales and elbows, murmuring baby talk. It folded itself over his heart and looped several coils around his neck, all the while purring and thrumming.

           Carlos smirked. “So much for not having it imprint on you.”

           “I guess I shouldn’t volunteer for wildlife rehab…” His gaze fell back, beaming, to the creature. “But when I look into that little face…”

           “About that.  Which part is the face?”

           “Carlos, really.” Cecil snorted. The pair of eye stalks emerged from the mass and mirrored Cecil as he rolled his eyes. “And you a scientist.”

           “Do fox puppies have membranes?” It was their joke at this point, but Carlos wouldn’t let the species thing drop.

           “Kits.” Cecil corrected. “ And we _all_ have membranes.”

           “Outside? On our limbs?”

           “Maybe it’s a flying fox.”

           “Scales? What part of the fox is that?”

           “How on Earth did you survive puberty? I mean really.  Like you never molted or lost any baby teeth.  It’s a _process._ ” Cecil waved a hand then peered into the pot on the stove. “That smells wonderful. Alfredo sauce?”

           “Don’t change the subject. Did you know it can climb things now?”

           “You can?” Cecil gushed. “You are so clever little one!”

           Dear gods was his boyfriend a bad actor. “Cecil.”

           Uh-oh. The quiet voice. Cecil untangled the animal from his neck and set it on the floor. “Is something wrong, dear Carlos?”

           “I know about your little adventure at the park the other day.”

           The radio host smiled easily. “Oh, well. I guess the lady from the animal shelter mentioned it? It all worked out in the end.”

           Cecil wasn’t taking this seriously. Or maybe, Carlos considered, his attitude was to set the tone to keep from worrying him, the same way he scoffed to the scientist that reeducation or mandatory citizen id tattoos or experimental vaccinations were all no big deal. Either way, Carlos wasn’t buying it.

           “I didn’t hear it from her.” Carlos unfolded a letter. “We got a little visit while you were bowling from Walton Kincaid. I paid a late fee for not registering our new _kitten_ and—“

           “Walton Kincaid??” Cecil demanded, eyes going wide. “Of ‘Sound Proof Old Town’?”

           Carlos paused. He was supposed to be the one upset here… “Yes. And obviously—“

           “ _The_ Walton Kincaid, president of the Night Vale Historic Homes Society?”

           “Yes, Cecil. Walton Kincaid. We’ve established that. Why are you so— so—“ He raised his eyebrows not finding the word.

           “Carlos, do you know what happens when your house is declared a historic home and you are put on the registry?”

           “I’ve heard it’s a pain. You can’t make any non period appropriate changes…”

           Cecil nodded vigorously. “They remove everything, _everything_ that’s not from that time period. Including YOU.” He hissed. “Except for Lady Alice and Evelyn Wormstrom, but only because they were old enough to be used in a parlor diorama.  And do you know _how_ he wanted to sound proof Old Town and protect it from the noisy sunsets?”

           Carlos shook his head.

           “He contracted Vincent LeFarge’s vigilante squad to blow out the current residents' ear drums. Luckily City Council stopped him in time. Said if he did that people would talk too loud and damage the surveillance mics and hurt the Sheriff’s Secret Police Officers ears.”

           A pebble hit the kitchen window. “The man’s a menace!” a muffled voice from outside shouted.

           Cecil gave the window a shaky thumbs up and gripped the kitchen counter to steady himself. “Oh Carlos…” He moaned.

           “Cecil, he didn’t see anything. It was just a twenty dollar fine. You didn’t know he was on the HOA?”

           “He wasn’t when we closed on the house.”

           “And you weren’t concerned about the rest of the association?”

           “Carlos, you don’t understand.  You want an HOA to negotiate better blood rain insurance premiums and to take care of the community pool and gun range.  And maybe you have to put up with some silly stuff about matching paint or where you can or can’t barbecue or burn offerings to the old gods, but that’s okay, because overall it’s better to be part of the neighborhood. But ‘Night Vale or Nothing’ won’t stop at exterior improvements and definitely won’t stop at policing pets. If I had known Walton Kincaid or any of his friends had taken over the board, I never would have agreed to buying here. They adhere to the old attitudes about interlopers…  You know, stoning mimes and plopping outsiders in the wolf pen at the zoo when they run out of food pellets…”

           “And I’m not from Night Vale.”

           Cecil shook his head. “No. You’re not.”

           The scientist looked from Cecil’s drawn face to the small creature playing in its water bowl with its trunk. “You still have your check-in with the SPCA tomorrow, right?”

           “Uh huh.”

           “I think we need to ask them about a safe foster home.”

 

………………..<+>……………………

 

           Cecil was unusually quiet as they drove to the shelter the next morning. He held the creature’s box in his lap, but he had a hand and most of his forearm snaked inside of it to pet the animal. Carlos glanced over, noting this as he drove, and when Cecil caught his eye, they both tried to smile.

           Turning his head back to the window, Cecil tipped his chin at different landmarks, trying to sound chipper. “Look there. The White Sands reopened.”

           “We should go soon.”

           “Mm hmm.  And there — they’ve almost got the lot cleared to start working on the Opera House. Josie’s so excited.”

           Carlos could see where he had spotted the shell of the main structure and its iron work fire escape above the other buildings of Old Town. “Is she keeping any of the original structure?”

           “I should ask…” Cecil sighed.

           Watching him drop his head against the passenger door window, Carlos frowned. “Cecil? You okay?” With the back of his fingers, he brushed a little hair back from his boyfriend’s temple and stroked his cheek, which was warm. “You seem…”

           “I’m alright, Carlos. A little tired is all. And maybe worried.”

 

………………..<+>……………………

 

           “Walton Kincaid?” The shelter worker grimaced with a visible shudder.

           “You know him?”

           “All of Animal Control knows him. The man puts out glue boards for squirrels and leg hold traps for stray dogs. He’s a nightmare. We tried to file a restraining order against him on behalf of all non-human mammals, but City Council didn’t go for it. It’s fortunate you’re at a point where your little booger is big enough to fend for itself.”

           Cecil looked to Carlos stricken. “Already? Really?”

           They were shut in one of the small adoption meet and greet rooms so the creature could come out of the box and explore.  So far, it had inspected the floor for food, climbed up on the benches with them, visited everyone’s lap, and now had begun grooming itself while perched on Cecil’s knee.

           “Well, yeah. And like it showed at the park, it can eat and catch bugs and climb and run. I think so, and the sooner the better.” She watched Cecil fold both arms around the animal and softened her voice. “Mr. Palmer, no fooling, I thought it might be a fox kit. But I think you and I both know that’s not what we’re dealing with here.”

           Carlos puffed up a little.

           “Not a word,” Cecil warned. “Then what is it?”

           “No clue. But it’s not a pet. I mean, it’s not a domesticated animal. Look, if it were up to me, I’d just whistle and look the other way, but if your HOA knows and the SSP knows, I’ve got to tell you, as a wildlife steward, it’s best you release it some where out of town.”

           “But what if we got it its shots or bought a license?”

           “I’m not sure exactly what shots I’d give it.  I mean, just worming it for parasites might eliminate the whole animal itself. And it’s a wild animal — there’s no license for those — and if your HOA doesn’t allow exotics you need to let it go away from people. Seriously, if they get the police involved, the SSP takes anything they can’t identify to the zoo. You don’t want that.”

           Cecil shuddered. “No. Of course not.” 

………….

           Back in the car, Cecil sighed, head hung over the box as he hugged it in his lap.

           “You heard the lady.” Carlos said gently.

           Cecil met Carlos’s eyes, scrunching his lips to keep the lower one from trembling. “This weekend? So we could have one more week?”

           The scientist couldn’t argue with that heartbroken look. 

           …And he figured the SSP was really only efficient when they wanted to be. Besides, surely he’d survived worse Night Vale threats than Walton Kincaid? 

           “Okay. The weekend then.”

………….

 

           By the next day, Carlos’s suspicions were confirmed: Cecil had the flu that was going around. He was flushed and slow moving as he shoveled his laptop and papers into his bag for work.

           “I can’t believe you even got the shot.” Carlos shook his head and took the satchel away from him.

           “Everyone did. If City Council needs to test a new strain, how could I as a good citizen refuse?” He reached for his bag.

           “Nope.” Carlos told him firmly and pointed to their room. “Bed. Now.”

           “I have work, and Station Management was —“

           Cecil gasped, finding himself scooped off his feet. It made him a little dizzy and he hugged the scientist’s neck as he was carried to the bedroom. 

           “I already called in for you. And Teddy Williams is dropping some medicine by.” Carlos sat Cecil on the edge of the bed and began undressing him, slipping off his work tie and unbuttoning his shirt. “Now, bed rest and fluids. No buts.”

           Cecil sighed, but smiled gratefully and didn’t argue. His insides felt warm at all the attention Carlos paid helping him back into his pajamas and the soft sheets, but that might have just been his fever. He was tired and achey and it was a relief that his partner was there taking over.

           He closed his eyes and sank against the cool of his pillow feeling the creature trill and snuggle up against his legs.

 

           Once he’d had some of the flu remedy Teddy brought, Cecil slept most of the day. By evening, while he didn’t feel any better, he was at least in a good enough mood to eat some of the chicken soup Carlos made for him and sip ginger ale while pretending not to doze in front of streaming episodes of M Squad. Carlos was never going to understand the Lee Marvin fixation, but whatever.

           The creature stayed glued to him, nestled against his hip and rhythmically clawing biscuits into his blanket while burbling softly like a parakeet.

           Presently, Carlos slipped a hand over Cecil’s brow checking his fever. His partner blinked at him and shifted a little, his hand buried in the animal’s fur.

           “Carlos?”

           “Hmm?”

           “I want to keep it.” Cecil confessed.  “ _And I think we_ _should_.” He seemed to be searching the scientist’s face for the logical protest he knew would be coming…

           But Carlos understood. 

           The scientist would miss having a chess partner and after watching it dance in circles around Cecil, panting and chirping for its rabbit squeaky, trailing after him eagerly for some canned cat food, or seeing it content, sleeping curled up on their fluffy comforter, to return it to the harsh emptiness of the scrub lands just seemed cruel.

           But over the last week at the lab, he had run a projection of the animal’s growth rate that was, well, disturbing.  Sure it didn’t take into account that for mammals, adolescence and young adulthood meant a tapering off to an organism’s adult size…  However this creature showed no sign of slowing down, much less tapering off or stopping.  It had barely weighed an ounce when they found it, and now it was a respectable 13 pounds, large by most median domestic house cat standards.

           “I do too.” Carlos admitted. “It’s the most scientifically interesting pet I’ve ever studied, and it’s very sweet.  But how big do you think it’s going to get? It’s one thing to try to keep something cat or dog size, but what if we’re talking about the size of a pony or bigger?”

           “I don’t care. Maybe we could move? Somewhere without an HOA where we can have pets and birdbaths and leave our Homecoming decorations up past Halloween…”

           Carlos smiled, suppressing a laugh. “Shhh… Let’s talk about it more when you’re feeling better.” He folded a cool washcloth and arranged it across Cecil’s forehead. “How’s that feel?”

           “Really nice.”

           “Good.”

………………<+>………………

 

           The banging wouldn’t stop.

           Cecil opened a bleary eye and pushed up from his pillow with a groan. The clock, if it was to be believed, read 8:13pm. What on earth was that noise?

           As the banging continued, the animal huddled under the comforter against him and whimpered.

           Not long before the racket started, Carlos had checked in on him and told him he was going to make a quick run over to the Ralph’s.

           “Can you think of anything that sounds good?” 

           “A quick death.” Cecil wheezed.

           Carlos gave him a sad smile. “I meant more like drinks or soup.”

           “Something cool. Anything…  …not hot.”

           Rewetting the washcloth, Carlos replaced it across Cecil’s brow watching his boyfriend’s eyes close at its touch. “I’ll pick some things out. I won’t be long.”

           So. Carlos wouldn’t be investigating the noise… …which Cecil’s brain had dully begun to recognize as loud pounding on the front door.

           “Alright alright…” He heaved himself up and shoved the covers aside. Looking down as he stabbed sock feet into his slippers, he smirked grimly at his legs. Whoever it was better be okay with him looking like warmed over hell in pastel Glow Cloud pjs. 

           (All hail.)

           As he padded to the entryway, the creature followed, made brave by having its human to hide behind. Cecil thought it was probably being a bit dramatic for a visit from the UPS carrier.

           Slumping against the wall, he slipped the deadbolt and opened the door. “Hello?”

           He blinked, then scowled.

           It wasn’t a someone. It was a mob.  The full HOA board, Janice Rio from down the street, Walton Kincaid, Emily Munton, Juanita Jefferson (head of neighborhood improvement organization Night Vale or Nothing), as well as Russel Swinson (still looking a little rumpled from traveling by stag) were all there, as well as few others Cecil couldn’t place, holding shovels, rakes, flashlights, hedge clippers and a dirty plastic pet carrier.

           “I don’t know what this is about, but it will have to wait.” Cecil sniffed and began to close the door.

           “You know exactly what it’s about Mr. Palmer.” Kincaid’s boot halted the door, and he yanked it open easily. “We’re here to bring you into compliance with our bylaws. One way or another.”

           At this, Kincaid stepped aside to reveal Vincent LaFarge and some other members of his vigilante squad, Grab ‘em and Sack ‘em. Beside him, in full National Guard array was Lietenant Regis, military rifle on his shoulder.

           “You’ll need to surrender the contraband exotic.” Regis told him. “I’d do so quietly.”

           “Get off my porch before I call the police. Really Janice, Emily. You should be ashamed. All this over a baby animal.”

           A couple of the other HOA members looked at each other. “Russel said it was an indescribably monster!” One blurted.

           Embarrassed, Swinton pulled Cecil aside and pointed. “See for yourself!”

           Watching Cecil stumble as he was yanked forward, the creature puffed up and hissed a warning, then whined in fear.

           “Don’t touch me!” Cecil snapped and strode back for the doorway, but LaFarge grabbed him around the waist, allowing Kincaid to rush forward and snatch up the animal by the feelers. 

           “Get me that carrier!” He spun, swinging the animal by its thin antenna, and it twisted and arched as it dangled, squealing in pain.

           “PUT IT DOWN!” Cecil roared, his voice hoarse, and he fought, elbowing La Farge in the gut, watching in horror as Emily Munton popped open the pet carrier. 

           The animal shrieked and flailed at Cecil’s cry, its budding membraned limbs emerging again to stretch and flutter. It almost slipped Kincaid’s grasp, but he snatched it back, crumpling one of the delicate webbed limbs in his fist. 

           With a horrible high cry, the creature curled double and sank its beak into Walton’s forearm. Cecil, wrested free at last, launched himself into Kincaid, knocking aside the pet crate and flinging the other man to the concrete sidewalk.

           “It bit me!” Kincaid screamed as the animal fluttered, panicked, a few yards away. 

           Cecil barely heard, climbing up to stumble after the fleeing creature, which continued to fling itself, one limb now jutted out at a weird and wrong angle, to flap and glide desperately away from the mob.

           “Jesus, Walton. Your arm!”

           Cecil didn’t look back. He just wanted to get to his pet and see if it was hurt, and the animal in its terror was losing him, making a diagonal b-line for town.

 

………………<+>………………

 

           Carlos had just pulled onto Earl Road from the Ralph’s parking lot when his phone went off.

           “Carlos!  PLEASE HELP ME! They came to the house and little one got loose and I think it might be hurt —oh god, Walton Kincaid tried to crush it and it bit him and—“

           Carlos pulled over. “Cecil. Where are you?”

           “Oh god, the vacant lot? No. No. Outside the Opera House. They’re still coming after us. Carlos! Oh god, it’s going up the fire escape! It can’t— what if it falls?” The panicked voice crackled and wailed.

           “Cecil. Don’t move. I’ll be right there. Cecil?” Carlos looked at the screen, but the call hadn’t disconnected. “Cecil? Cecil? Do not climb after it!”

 

_To be continued…_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't kill me... ...I'm almost done with the last chapter!
> 
> Comments are the tail wags and purrs of life... all else is, um, crickets?


	9. Closing In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carlos has pretty much had it with any group with three initials: HOA, NRA, and, hey, why not throw in the PTA too for good measure? Cecil and the critter on the other hand find their biggest trouble is a lack of architectural integrity.

     

 

       By the time Carlos got to the Opera House ruins, tires tearing into the gravel of the construction lot, his headlights revealed his worst fear was true. 

       Cecil had climbed up after it.

       And the crowd that had stormed his house had caught up.  Like a pathetic pack of villagers from a Frankenstein movie, some of them even had shovels and yard brooms for weapons. The creature, hearing them below, was wrapped around a thin metal arching vine, some five or six stories up, and inch-worming its way higher. Carlos leapt from the car.

       These people, his supposed _neighbors_ had done this: drug his sick boyfriend out of bed to terrorize him and his pet. The scientist was seeing red even as cold panic ran through his chest. “Cecil!” Carlos shouted, shoving, kicking and elbowing through the small mob, yanking people to the ground to force a path. “Get back!” He spat. “Get away from them!”

       High above on the skeletal fire escape, Cecil had climbed to stand on the rail, an elbow hooked around the support, and was reaching up, stretching towards the frightened animal wrapped around the broken arch of ironwork.

       “Cecil!” He shouted again, breaking from the group and running for the base of the fire escape.

       “I know what that thing is.” Carlos heard a gravely voice announce. Glancing back, he saw a man in a National Guard uniform shoulder a rifle and begin to sight down it.

Against reason, he raced faster for the fire escape.                        

 

 

 

       Lieutenant Regis, member of Unit 7 of the local National Guard Station and KFC Combo Store grinned with satisfaction as the small dangling black mass appeared in his cross hairs.

       Then his head whipped to the side as his own gun stock socked him in the jaw.

       He whirled on his assailant: a woman in a NVSPCA t-shirt brandishing a catch pole.

       “Put that thing down.” She growled and squared off in front of him, using the pole like a quarter staff and blocking the rest of the group from getting any closer. “Firing in a residential area with two people and a rare animal in the line of fire — and towards metal work with a guarantee of ricochet.  I’ll have your NRA membership card for this _and_ your permit for extra crispy*.”

 

 

 

       Before Carlos could close the distance, there was a shuddering groan from the fire escape, and he looked up to see the teetering metal scaffolding begin to let go of the crumbling wall. He froze, eyes wide, forgetting how to breath. Above him Cecil had grabbed the creature, but he was clutching at the toppling pole, blinking as though dizzy, and then to Carlos’s horror, the whole thing began arcing out from the Opera House ruin, falling, falling.

       The little animal bleated in fear.

       Cecil’s sock feet slipped from the rail; his body in mid air.

       Carlos’s eyes went wide.

       Blackness — no, ropes — no, vines… 

       Tentacles.

       Tentacles shot out of the dark hole in the ruined building: the old upper window access to the fire escape. They wrapped around Cecil, practically mummifying him, then retracted, taking him with them.

       Just like that.

       Gone.

       “Cecil!” Carlos screamed. “Cecil!”

       With a snort like a storm gust, something dark, amorphous, and huge leaned out of the crevice, clawed, multi-jointed legs clinging easily to the crumbling rubble.

       To everyone’s horror, it twisted a lumpy protrusion of itself around, and then dropped open a cavernous maw to reveal rows and rows of teeth, long and sharp as icicles. 

       It’s first shriek rattled the air and knocked everyone to the ground trembling. Its second sent them all fleeing and scrambling in different directions. Surveying their retreat, the monster spit a smoking stream of black ichor after them for good measure before grunting and huffing back into the hole.

       Panting, Carlos picked himself up. He stared in momentary shock at the deserted lot, the gravel now littered with the mob’s garden implements, guns and the wreck of the toppled fire escape all like abandoned toys, then wormed his way through a crack in the wall of the Opera House. “Cecil?” He called up into the rafters.

       Overhead, a massive darkness was creeping through the  dark cavern, it’s path clear: down the length of the ruin and towards a yawning hole in the attic of the adjacent building. Carlos scrambled over crushed theatre seats and hunks of concrete and marble to follow it.

 

..........................<o>..........................

 

       Exhausted, Cecil stopped fighting the tentacles wound around him and went limp. A wave of dizziness was making his head spin and being swung through the air didn’t help. After a breath or two, he realized he wasn’t being squeezed; just held and carried.

       His small creature was now huddled in his armpit, its coils hugging his neck. It had managed to straighten and refold its crumpled wing-like limb, but was still favoring it, letting it stick out from its fur. 

       “You’re okay?” Cecil whispered.

       It trilled at him and he managed to nuzzle it back in response.

       Where were they being carried?

       Was this thing taking them to its nest? Were they a snack? 

       If it eats me, I hope it gets this flu, Cecil thought dully. Serve it right. 

       The swaying as it moved in his fevered state was making him queasy. He rallied to arch his back and try again to free himself, but as he did, the monster stopped its forward slither.  The tentacles — he couldn’t push them off — lifted him until he found himself gazing into numerous obsidian black eyes the size of basketballs.  

       His creature chittered excitedly and waved its feelers at the enormous face, then purred.

       Letting his head loll back against one of the fat black coils, Cecil blinked up in wonder.

       “Randal?”

 

 

       “Cecil!”

       Carlos had made it through the remains of the Opera House and emerged into the alley just in time to see the end of the black thing vanish into the fissure in the library roof.

       “Carlos!” Came a faint reply.

       The scientist whooped. “I’m coming!”

       But before Carlos could even look for a ground level entrance, black began to spill out of the hole and slither down the wall on clawed talons and muscular reptilian coils.

       From out of this mass of darkness, tentacles unfurled and touched down on the alley floor, and then Carlos saw a small swatch of sky blue in the ocean of black. Part of Cecil’s pajamas became visible as the enormous form settled and arranged itself on big hairy haunches before finally revealing the radio host limp, wrapped in its appendages.

       Their little creature yipped and Carlos spotted it peering at him from up high, a speck, close to one of the librarian’s many glittering black eyes.

       Swallowing, Carlos took a hesitant step forward… Then he looked up into the eyes and held his arms out in a silent plea.

       The tentacles drifted down and gently set Cecil tottering on his feet in front of Carlos who snatched him and gathered him tightly to his chest, shaking with relief.

       “‘M okay, Carlos.” Cecil mumbled. “Oof.” He grunted as the scientist squeezed him harder and he let his head drop onto his shoulder. “Do you remember Randal? The librarian?  He’s a mom.”

       Carlos nodded and managed to look up again, wiping his face quickly. “Thank you.” He told the thing.

       Their little creature chittered and burbled, scurrying down a tentacle to nuzzle Cecil, who stroked it and hugged it in weakly with a shaky arm. “Be good, little one.” He buried his face in its fur back, then kissed the top of one of its eye stalks, his eyes streaming.

       Carlos tucked himself under Cecil’s shoulder and slipped an arm around his back to steady him. “Let’s get you home.”

       Leaning on him, Cecil closed his eyes and nodded.

       Now Carlos reached over to pet the creature, and it climbed his arm, wrapped itself around his neck and thrummed warmly. “Randal, little one here will kick your ass at chess. Assuming that’s part of your anatomy, of course.” He gave it a one-armed hug before letting it climb back into the mass of librarian tentacles. In moments both creatures had melted silently up the side of the building, like retreating shadows, back into the attic.

 

       At the car, Carlos found his door hanging open and sitting on the driver’s seat was a thick tome, _The Desert Apothecary_ and a copy of _Night Vale Founders Land Owner’s Rights_.

       “I guess I should renew my card.”

       “Hm?” Cecil opened an eye.

       “Nothing.” Carlos buckled his seat belt for him.

 

       Once they were home and Cecil was gratefully back in bed, Carlos sat beside him and gently stroked his hair while softly reciting his bloodstone chants for him. The adrenaline crash was hitting him hard and the scientist’s fingers felt soft and cool against his brow.

       “Carlos?”

       “Hmm?”

       “I know it’s where it should be, but I’m going to miss it.”

       “I know. It’s okay. I will too.”

       “Could we…  Could we put its toys in the book depository for it?”

       Carlos smiled. “Of course,” He swallowed hard. “I’m sure it’ll like that.”

       Cecil was quiet and the scientist thought he might have given in to sleep. “Do you think…” He hesitated.

       “Hm?”

       “Do you think Khoshekh could come stay on the weekends sometimes?”

       Carlos stretched out beside his boyfriend, letting his arm rest lightly across his chest as he kept finger combing his hair. “I was going to surprise you.” He said gently. “I started allergy shots a couple weeks ago. If they don’t work, there’s always Benadryl.”

       Cecil’s eyes didn’t open, but he sighed and smiled.

 

..........................<o>..........................

 

**Epilogue: A Few Days Later…**

 

       “Listen to this. ‘Librarians lay their eggs in several small clutches in the scrub lands and  sand wastes in the late Fall, and after a six month incubation period, an adult goes out to collect the young…’”

       Carlos had a stack of newly checked out books scattered across the bed. Cecil was feeling a lot better, especially after one of the concoctions Carlos brewed in the lab from _The Desert Apothecary_. Yucca nectar, resurrection plant and boiled cat’s claw or some such… He stretched out and nestled beside the scientist, smiling to watch his excitement over fresh research materials.

       “‘The young will be about the size of an adult guinea pig, five to six ounces. However clutches may be disturbed by scavengers such as grey fox or coyote.’”

       “Oh Carlos. Our little one wasn’t nearly that big. Do you think that’s what happened?”

       “I’m willing to bet.”

       “What book is that?” 

       Carlos showed him the cover: _A Child’s Guide to the Scrublands: How to Survive._ Then he held up a couple more… _An Outsider’s Concise History of Night Vale or How Not to be an Interloper; from Soft Meat Crowns to Street Cleaning_ and _Night Vale, our Cultural Heritage of Deadly Holidays_.

       “And,” Carlos slid his iPad over. “I got a text from Steve that Night Vale General had some librarian anti-venom on hand, so Kincaid didn’t lose his arm. He might even regain a little use of it—”

       Cecil crossed his arms and flopped back among their pillows with a huff. “Hopefully he won’t use it to keep crushing and hurting things smaller than him. Phht.”

       “— _And_ ,” Carlos continued, ignoring this, “He’s been removed from the HOA board. Emily Munton and the others resigned. Do you know what that means?”

       Cecil didn’t.

       “We both could join and either of us could run for president.”

       “Ooooo… And we could make pet ownership mandatory.”

       Instead of arguing, his boyfriend leaned over him, lowering his voice and giving him a soft kiss. “Hmm. Maybe we could start with lifting the ban on birdbaths and exotics?”

       Cecil blinked up at him. “You’re persuasive. Tell me more about this moderate platform of yours, Mr. Scientist?”

 

..........................<o>  The End  <o>..........................

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Extra Crispy is a controlled substance in Night Vale. Everyone knows that.
> 
> Full disclosure, I spent a bit of time stalling on finishing this one because I really wanted The Librarian live show to drop before I posted the ending. I’m sure readers guessed what the critter might be, but I still wanted people to possibly be in the know about Randal.  
> Hands up, who guessed? :)  
> The Mission Grove park adventure was planned to be a much smaller bit, but the whole stalling thing fleshed it out into its own chapter -- but I'm happy that happened now.
> 
> Anyway, I really hope you liked it.  
> If you did, maybe throw down a goodbye comment?


End file.
